


May The Maker Turn His Gaze Away From Us

by lisakodysam



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisakodysam/pseuds/lisakodysam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The arrival of the Wardens at the Lothering chantry offers Ser Bryant a little respite from the constant influx of refugees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May The Maker Turn His Gaze Away From Us

Ser Bryant ushered the latest influx of refugees towards the Revered Mother's gathering place inside the chantry. She and many of the refugees were praying for Lothering's safe deliverance from the imminent darkspawn invasion.

He stopped for a brief respite, a rare moment to gather himself amidst the chaos. He splashed his face with water from the font, then took out his handkerchief and dried himself off.

He certainly hadn't expected life at the chantry to be like this. He'd been transferred there two weeks earlier by Knight-Commander Gregoir as punishment – well, that's how Bryant saw it anyway. His crime? 'Inappropriate behaviour' with two female mages and an apprentice. Bryant allowed himself a lop-sided grin. _If only they knew just how inappropriate_ , he thought to himself with amusement, feeling a stirring in his loins from the memories of his time at the Circle Tower. His memories were as close as he came to the real thing these days.

And three women? More like thirty! _Ah, those were the days_ , he mused. He'd never had any trouble attracting women – he was a catch, and he knew it. He was tall and lithe, with black/brown hair which he wore long and braided; his complexion was dusky, lending him a tanned appearance, in sharp contrast to the majority of the other templars at the Tower, whose complexions were pasty due to spending all day inside; and his eyes were dark green/grey – sometimes appearing dark brown, especially in dim light.

The apprentices at the Tower had been his favourites – not that he had a preference for younger women, particularly, but they were more receptive and enthusiastic. It seemed to Bryant that once an apprentice took their Harrowing, they became rather sober and serious, not qualities conducive to a quick bunk-up in a storage room.

As more travellers entered through the main doors, he straightened up and affected his 'solemn' expression. He wasn't unsympathetic to these peoples' plight, but he found the constant stream of the dispossessed, starving and bereaved very wearying.

Two of the templars under his command approached him and nervously asked when they would be leaving Lothering.

"There's word of darkspawn stragglers," he informed his men, "but no sign of the main horde. We are the only hope of protection this village has now, and I will not abandon them. That is all. May the Maker have mercy on us."

He turned to greet the latest arrivals and was surprised by their appearance. They were well turned-out in various types of armour, and appeared clean and well-fed – they certainly didn't look like refugees.

They were led by a tall, well-built man with short, sand-coloured hair, wearing splintmail armour. Accompanying him was an odd-looking female, with black hair and yellow eyes. A hedge witch, or a Chasind, by the look of her, thought Bryant. A Mabari hound stood at her side.

To the rear of the group stood a pretty elven mage, wearing an elaborate green and gold robe. Her hair was blonde, almost white, and was pulled up into a messy topknot with loose tendrils framing her face. Her face, like that of most elven women, was delicate, with a small button nose, a pert, neat mouth and strongly defined cheekbones. Her eyes were pale green and cat-like, and she wore make-up to accentuate them.

 _Wait…I know that face from somewhere_ , Bryant thought, his stomach suddenly tightening.

"Ser Bryant!" she said brightly, stepping forward. "I hadn't expected to see you here. Where have you been?"

Bryant's eyes creased and his hand grasped his chin as he studied her closely. "Mari, isn't it? Mari Surana?"

"The very same," she replied with a huge grin on her face. "Some of my friends were wondering where you'd gotten to. They miss you."

"Really?" he muttered with a raised eyebrow, unable to hide the glint in his eye.

"Yes, they all speak _very_ highly of you."

They looked at one another for a moment, Mari with a knowing smile on her face; Ser Bryant's expression was impassive, but his dancing eyes told a different story.

"I always thought it a pity that you and I were never better…acquainted," he said huskily.

"As did I, Ser Bryant," she replied, chewing her fingernails and twisting a lock of hair between her fingers.

"Well!" chirped the sandy-haired man innocently. "Isn't it nice to see a templar and a mage getting along so well? You don't see that very often!"

The hedge witch groaned and rolled her eyes. It was obvious to her just _how_ well they were getting along.

Ser Bryant cleared his throat. "So, how may I assist you?"

"We are Grey Wardens, come to seek the Revered Mother's blessing," replied Mari. "This is Alistair, Morrigan and Alpha."

"Grey Wardens? I see," muttered Ser Bryant. "You do know that Teyrn Loghain has put a price on the head of all Grey Wardens for the murder of King Cailan?"

"Do you really believe that?" asked Mari.

Ser Bryant shook his head. "I do not believe that the Wardens would be so malicious or careless to do as the Teyrn claims. But…there it is."

"Is there _anything_ you can do to help us?" asked Alistair.

"I cannot openly assist you, I fear," said Bryant quietly, "but we do have some supplies which may prove useful to you. Come, Mari, you can tell me what you _need_ ," he added with a sly glance at her, "while your companions receive their blessing."

"Of course," replied Mari, hoping that the heat she felt didn't show in her face, "I'd be delighted to give you a _hand_."

Ser Bryant led her to a small storeroom to the rear of the chantry while the others went to see the Revered Mother. Mari fancied that she could feel Morrigan's eyes boring holes into her back.

 

Once inside, Ser Bryant closed the door and slid the lock across. "We don't have much time," he growled, crossing the room towards her.

"What about our supplies?" Mari teased.

"They're over there in a pile," he said breathlessly, tugging at her robe. "Now, get this blasted thing off!"

Mari assisted him willingly, and before long she stood before him in her smallclothes. He took a step back and let his eyes linger over her tiny, tight body. "You won't be needing these," he whispered, reaching behind her and skilfully removing her breastband, tossing it to the floor; his lips suddenly smothering hers as he tugged at her panties, letting them fall to her feet.

He grabbed her bottom and lifted her up, slamming her against the wall, his lips greedily devouring hers. She removed his gauntlets and let them fall to the floor, taking his hands and placing them over her tiny breasts. He grunted and grabbed as much flesh as he could, moving his mouth down to her neck and biting, taking her erect nipples in between his fingers and thumbs and pinching hard.

She threw her head back and cried out, immediately clamping her hand over her mouth, before realising that the Canticle of Threnodies, being recited by the Chanters, drowned out any noise they made.

 _You have brought sin to Heaven, and doom upon all the world…_

Bryant placed her back down on the floor and dropped to his knees, hooking her left leg behind his neck, and plunged his tongue into her, greedily savouring her sweet nectar. He searched for the small protuberance, and upon finding it, was rewarded by a whimper and sharp intake of breath. He felt it swell in his mouth as he sucked and licked, and he heard her breathing quicken as she grabbed his hair and bucked her hips against him.

"There!" she cried. "Stay there!"

He spread her further apart and quickened his movements, grabbing her buttocks and pulling her into him. As she shuddered, he took her fully into his mouth and sucked hard, eliciting a ragged scream from her as she flooded into his mouth.

He wiped his mouth and stood up, offering a steadying hand to her trembling body. He threw his sash to the floor and parted his skirts, which Mari held out of the way as he removed his codpiece and released himself from his smallclothes.

"Oh! Ser Bryant!" she cried with wide eyes. "You're…enormous! I thought my friends had been exaggerating!"

"No time for talk," he snarled, lifting her up once more and fully introducing himself to her in one stroke, causing her to gasp and dig her nails into his neck. He craned his neck and sucked hard on her nipple as he fucked her into the wall, each thrust eliciting a harsher grunt from him as her arms and legs dangled powerlessly to the sides. Then, using the strength in his legs, he braced them both against the wall as he pinned her hands above her head and ground her tiny body into oblivion. She felt his huge hands envelop and crush hers as he yelled her name and spilled his seed deep inside her. He continued slowly thrusting into her until his racing pulse finally slowed, releasing her hands from their bonds and gently withdrawing from her, letting her down to the floor once more.

 

Alistair, Morrigan and Alpha had received their blessing and were waiting for Bryant and Mari. Alistair had suggested lending them a hand, but Morrigan had immediately redirected his attention.

They finally emerged, with Mari carrying two armfuls of armour, weapons and health poultices, which Alistair gallantly took from her. "That storeroom must be hot, Mari," he said blithely. "You're all flushed!"

"Yes, it was very hot!" she replied, grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you for you assistance, Ser Bryant," she said, turning toward him.

"You are most welcome, Miss Surana," he replied graciously. "And thank _you_." He turned towards the others, crossed his arms and bowed. "May the Maker watch over your path."

The group of four made their way to the exit.

"How _could_ you?" hissed Morrigan with disgust in her voice. "With a templar, of all people?"

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, Morrigan," came the reply.


End file.
